Through a Glass, Darkly
by ladylookslikeadude
Summary: Siobhan Potter is a good Catholic girl about to walk into the world of the Saints of South Boston with her eyes wide open. None of them will ever be the same again. Warnings: Religion, eventual smut, language, eventual threesome/three way relationship. Connor/Siobhan/Murphy
1. Chapter 1

**Through a Glass, Darkly**

Summary: Siobhan Potter is a good Catholic girl about to walk into the world of the Saints of South Boston with her eyes wide open. None of them will ever be the same again. Warnings: Religion, eventual smut, language, eventual threesome/three way relationship. Connor/Siobhan/Murphy

_**A/N: The beliefs in this story do not necessarily coincide with my own beliefs. I am not Catholic, and thus I have no clue beyond my research on Catholicism about it. Feel free to tell me if I'm wrong, but please do not flame over the content of this story. You have been warned in the summary. A story about the Boondock Saints is bound to have religious overtones, after all. I got this idea from reading Feathers by Kira Kyuu, but don't expect it to be much like that at all, besides the name, which I love, and the beginning concept of her going to see her Doc of a grandfather. ;) **_

_**Also, don't expect this to really follow the plot of either movie. I enjoyed the movies, but I have no plan of separating those boys from Siobhan. At all. At it's heart, consider this a love story with rather serious undertones. I fully plan on a happily ever after, and that does not include sending Connor and Murphy off to Ireland. Sorry if you don't like it, but that's the way it is.**_

For all that her Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never loved her, and had in fact treated her with cruelty not quite edging on abuse; they had made sure that Siobhan Potter was a good Catholic girl all throughout her Hogwarts career.

Of course, this hadn't exactly worked out like they had planned. They had wanted her to believe that her gift of magic was a gift from the Devil, when in reality she knew that it was a gift from God.

But still, a good Catholic girl did not mesh well with a culture that still worshipped the pagan gods, and so she hid it carefully until her fourth year at Hogwarts, when she had been called by the Goblet of Fire.

"_Siobhan Potter," came Albus Dumbledore's grim voice, and the too small, too pale girl stood shakily before moving quickly. She knew better than most, after all, that to show weakness now would be suicide, and she had no desire to kill herself simply because she couldn't control herself._

_By the time she had gotten to the Antechamber she was still pale, but her shaking had stopped, even as she protested her innocence. When the pronouncement came that she had to compete, she closed her eyes. _

"_Are you not pleased?" The French girl, Fleur Delecour demanded, glaring at her with too blue eyes. "'Ogwarts now gets two bites at ze apple, two chances to win glory."_

_Siobhan opened her eyes and the intensity of her gaze made the blonde young woman take a step back in reluctant fear even as the others shifted uneasily. _

"_Ms. Delecour, I am fourteen years old, forced to compete in a tournament based on the average skill sets of those three years older than me." _

_She took a deep breath, and then drew a rosary out of her robes with a grim look, ignoring the shocked gasps of Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, along with the disturbingly knowing look from Snape._

"_I am going to die in twenty three days", she finished softly, laughing mockingly at Dumbledore's protests. "Yes, I am. Because I do not have the ability to compete at this level. And now I am going to pray."_

_She had knelt in a corner, because her prayers were private things, and this way she could still have a hope of keeping this a secret from the rest of Hogwarts._

Of course, it hadn't worked, because Cedric Diggory never had been able to keep his mouth shut about things that didn't concern him. So for the next year, she had been subjugated to the cruelest of taunts about her faith, and she had bowed her head and persevered.

Of course, Seamus Finnegan was from Ireland, same as her mother, aunt and grandfather, and he was a good Catholic boy.

Well, kind of.

At the very least he protected her against some of the nastier comments, telling her, "We Irish-Catholics have to stick together luv." She had asked, once, how he could tell that she had Irish heritage. He had laughed at her and said, "The accent never goes away one you've spent time with someone who has it."

And her grandfather had certainly had it; even years after he'd went to the Americas from Ireland, ending up in South Boston of all places. She had visited once with her relatives, and it was a nasty place, although by now she had certainly seen worse.

Still, after that one visit her relatives had never gone back, to her eternal disappointment. They had said that if he wanted to see them again, he would have to come to them. He never did.

After her fourth year, however, people had bigger things to worry about than her faith, although Ron never had quite forgiven her when he had caught her praying once, after she had thought everyone else had gone to bed.

The irony was in the fact that in Ireland, she was welcomed with open arms for being of the Catholic faith. And so after she had defeated Voldemort she had run to Ireland, where she could confess her sins to someone who could both absolve her and understand what she was talking about.

Which is how she ended up in a confessional, whispering, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was nearly one year ago." She swallowed heavily; even with the knowledge that the Priest was magical she was nervous. "I killed the Dark Lord Voldemort."

There was a soft gasp from the Priest's side of the confessional, but after another moment of silence she began confessing all of her sins. From wrath to envy, and even lust, they were there. She finished by saying, "I am sorry for these and all of my past sins."

The Priest began quietly. "I will say that I think th' time ye spent trying to figure out how to defeat th' Dark Lord is penance enough lass, but if ye need more, pray for th' poor sod. He'll be going straight to hell he will, and prayers for others are always welcomed by God. Yer a good girl Siobhan Potter, and a good Catholic. Don't let anyone say naught to th' contrary."

Siobhan smiled softly and continued on without a word, finding comfort in the familiar ritual. "God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of your grace to confess my sins, do penance, and to amend my life. Amen."

"I absolve ye from yer sins in th' name o' th' Father, th' Son an' th' Holy Spirit. Amen."

She bowed her head and repeated softly, "Amen. Thank you Father, both for the absolution and your kind words. I will pray for Voldemort, and I hope that it makes some kind of difference."

She let herself out of the confessional feeling lighter than she had in a long time. And for all that Ireland had to offer, she knew exactly where she needed to go next. It was time to hand out her own absolution, even if it wasn't wanted, even if she didn't truly have the right.

It was time to go back to Number 4, Privet Drive.

Apparation was a wonderful thing, reducing a long trip to mere moments. However, in moments like this, she wished that she had never learned it. Standing still and silent for the longest moment, she took her time to survey the place that she had once been forced to call home.

A deep breath had her moving quickly and knocking on the door, staring up into her Aunt Petunia's pale green eyes. Not as vibrant as her own, but she still wondered how she had never seen the similarity. Maybe she had just never wanted to. And she smiled when he Aunt resignedly invited her inside.

Siobhan took a seat and looked at the three people sitting opposite of her. They were three of the most casually cruel people that she knew, and she had spent much of her time recently in the Death Eater's dungeons, so that was saying something. But they were still her family, and that alone prompted her to speak.

"For the longest time, I hated you." Her voice was entirely bland, and that was the only thing that kept them from jumping up and ordering her out of their home. Wondering how she could make such a vicious statement sound so calm and disconnected.

"You never loved me. You kept me in a cupboard, and if you look in book at what constitutes physical abuse, several things pop out very clearly. At the very least you neglected me both physically and emotionally, and it took me a very long time to get over that."

And then Siobhan Potter smiled.

And Petunia Dursley hated herself for the first time, because that smile was all Lily and their father, and this was Lily's daughter and his granddaughter. And she had always loved her sister and her father, somewhere deep inside of herself; she had just so resented the burden placed on her family.

"But you gave me the one thing that has kept me alive all of these years," she continued softly, reaching inside of her shirt and pulling out a banged up rosary. "You gave me faith that God would protect and love me no matter what. And he does."

She stared them straight in the eyes, and then smiled again. "And I forgive you. I cannot hand you absolution for your sins, but I personally forgive you for your sins against me. Because I can't afford not to, and you are my family, whether you like to admit it or not."

Siobhan stood up, ready to leave, when Petunia grabbed her hand. "I will never forgive myself for treating a child so coldly," the older woman admitted tiredly, "but your grandfather has been asking to see you again ever since we took you to see him when you were eight."

It was a peace offering, and Siobhan took it as such. "Thank you Aunt Petunia," she said gently, before extracting herself gently from her hold and walking out their door for the last time.

And then Petunia Dursley smiled, and went to go cook dinner. She hadn't been the kindest to her niece, and she certainly hadn't stopped Vernon from crossing the line to abuse more than once, but she had saved her sister's daughter's immortal soul.

And no matter what, Petunia found that something to be proud of. It was also the first thing she had been proud of in a long time, and it was likely to be the last.

Siobhan was surprised, although she hadn't shown it. She had thought that her grandfather hadn't liked her, no matter how much he seemed to while he was there, but this put a whole new perspective on things.

The man who had taught her so much about her faith, who had treated her kindly even as he shouted out random curses, he wanted to see her again. He had wanted to see her since she had left, so many years ago. And he still wanted to see her now, now that she was grown and broken in so many different ways, not all caused by the War.

And she smiled again.

Because that was one more person that she could let in and love, because he had never stopped loving her, despite the nasty lies that Petunia and Vernon had spewed. He had liked her better than Dudley, and had been the first person to tell her that she had her mother's eyes.

He had been the first person to tell her anything nice at all about either of her parents, and that had stuck with her. Although he had never known her father, he had declared that he must have been a fine man; otherwise her mother wouldn't have married him, let alone had a child with him.

And for a little girl of eight years, that had been a warm glow that not even Vernon Dursley's belt could extinguish. It was also the only reason she had made it to eleven to go to Hogwarts.

It looked like Siobhan Potter was going to Boston.

And yet, once she gets there she is once again reminded that instant transportation is seriously overrated.

And yes, she is ignoring the fact that even Dumbledore would have had to have made that in a couple of trips instead of one, but she doesn't like to think about the implications of that, _thankyouverymuch_.

There are many things that could be said about Siobhan Potter. She's an ice cold bitch that denied every male that even tried to get close to her at Hogwarts. She may not believe in the whole 'abstinence until marriage' deal, but she also has magic, which many Catholics would gladly kill her for, so she's pretty sure she's allowed some leeway in the strict belief pattern.

After all, she doesn't believe in indiscriminate sex, just that sex should be with someone that you care about immensely. And no, she will not say the 'L' word. That word is no longer in her vocabulary, thank you.

So yeah, maybe her belief patterns weren't quite in line with what typical Catholic doctrine said, but hey. If a fucking _Priest_ tells her, after everything that she admitted to doing, that she is still a good Catholic girl, then she _is still a good fucking Catholic girl_, alright?

She is a murderer, and a Catholic. She has killed more Death Eaters than she can count, and she made Bellatrix Lestrange _beg _for killing her godfather. She killed Voldemort, and Lucius Malfoy and his son while Narcissa cried, and so many others. And she doesn't know if she can be forgiven for that. They were evil, but they were human.

Mostly.

Well, kind of.

The last, and most important, thing one should know about Siobhan Potter? She is _not_ a fucking _coward_. So she pulled open the door to McGuinty's Pub and strolled right in as if she owned the place.

Which, you know, the owner is her _grandfather_, so one day she _might_.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Whoa! That was an incredible response to this. I'm glad that you guys are as excited about this as I am! Keep in mind, especially during this chapter, that this is not going to be a realistic romance. I know realistic romance, and it sucks. Badly. So for real, don't expect it here. **_

_**Besides, in my mind they've watched her for years and they knew her when they were all younger, so it's not completely out of the blue! Now, for everyone who has followed and favorited my story, you're awesome! But not as awesome as the reviewers. Wink wink, nudge nudge. **_

_**Not going to lie, I spent a long ass time fighting with this, trying to make the beginning of their relationship different, and then I just decided that they were too stubborn to let me. So here you go!**_

_**:D Oh, and because I forgot last time…**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Boondock Saints or Harry Potter. I own my plot, and that's about it.**_

Siobhan's confident walk came to an immediate halt when she stepped into the room proper. The roar of rowdy drunks seemed to slam into her like a brick wall, causing her to tense up in slight alarm, but a quick glace around showed no serious enmity.

She couldn't help but let her lips quirk into a soft smile as she saw the men around the bar give her granddad shit and him give it right back. One day, she wanted something like that.

She knew that her grandfather was a veteran of a war as well, and it gave her hope that one day she could be just as normal as he was now. Well, preferably without the Tourettes Syndrome, but she'd take what she could get.

But she hadn't come all the way from England just to watch living proof that her grandfather was just as bad ass as she was, even if his mixing and matching of phrases and random swears had her muffling a soft laugh.

To her eternal amusement, it was that soft sound that got their attention, not the loud creak of the door. And when they all turned around to face her, she shifted her glance to her grandda.

"Siobhan?" The old man asked, an almost desperate plea in his eyes. And she nodded silently before laughing softly at his jubilant cursing as he rushed from behind the bar to grab her tight, pulling her close. "I've missed ye, girl."

"I've missed you too grandda," she replied softly as she returned his hug. Even as she did so, she couldn't help but resent her Aunt Petunia a little bit more. Her grandfather should not have had to ask her if she was his granddaughter. He should have seen her enough to know it without even blinking.

"Siobhan _Potter_?" The incredulous tone had her pulling away a little bit to search out the person who actually knew her. And sure enough, she found him. Well, two 'hims' to be precise.

She laughed in delighted disbelief. "Connor and Murphy MacManus." Of course, she named them both because she actually had no clue which of them was which. She shook her head and stepped fully out of her grandfather's arms, her finely honed instincts buzzing.

"I have to admit, you two grew up well." She noticed that she was falling back into the soft lilt of the accent she had always adored growing up, but she really couldn't bring herself to care about it at the moment.

"Shit girl," one of the snickered, "when did _you_ grow _curves_?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Probably about the time you grew some balls," she snarked back, suddenly regretting her decision for practical boots. Right now she could use the confidence that four inch heels gave her, but she wouldn't let that stop her.

Besides, she'd always resented the fact that her curves had come in right as the War was getting into full swing. Her newly formed breasts had gotten in her way and had left her off balance more times than she could count.

The only good thing about them was that they distracted the enemy on occasion, although that hadn't been a good thing in Voldemort's dungeon.

"She's got you there Connor," one of the other men sniggered, and she tucked the image of Connor MacManus into her brain for future reference. Of course, she could tell the difference easily, they weren't identical like Fred and George, but she hadn't seen them since she was eight, and they both looked a hell of a lot different than they had then.

The twins stood up, and she couldn't help her pout even as the others grew silent and nervous. "Fucking _giants_," she grumbled bitterly, and that broke the concerned silence as everyone laughed. The twins weren't any taller than normal, she was simply too short.

At nearly exactly five foot, she had to wear six inch heels to be the average height for a woman, and that still wouldn't have caught her up to their height.

But it sure as hell would have made her feel better.

"Boys, don't fight! M-My granddaughter's back," he paused to allow for his unintentional swearing, "And that's something t' celebrate."

He glanced down at her. "I-I'm surprised t' see you here though. Pet said that you didn't want t' see me again."

Siobhan pursed her lips, and her amused demeanor faded quickly. "Let's talk about that later grandda. For now, why don't you introduce me to your customers?" She would really rather not go into a rant about her Aunt, especially right after forgiving her.

Now that she had realized that her Aunt hadn't simply told him no, but had told him that she didn't _want _to come, well, forgiveness was going to be a little bit harder to come by now.

She was carefully forcing her voice back to her natural British accent, the reminder of her Aunt Petunia forcing her to put the musical accent of the Irish away, just as the woman forced Siobhan to all those years ago.

Her Aunt hadn't minded it so much, and had actually smiled at her once, but her Uncle hadn't enjoyed it one bit, so it was safer of everyone involved if her Aunt had forced her to do it instead of her Uncle.

That didn't mean that she didn't still resent the woman for it.

"W-Well, you already know the MacManus boys," he offered, and she nodded coolly. Yes, she certainly did. The Saints of South Boston, they were called, according to her sources.

They were on a mission from God to cleanse the place they lived of the evil of humanity. That was something she could get behind, even if they never knew that she knew about them.

Besides, they were obviously still the irritating jackasses that would never leave her alone when she was a kid. Connor's question had proven that quite well, especially since he'd always been the main instigator in their little fights.

Thankfully, they'd never shown an inclination to hit her for fun, unlike Dudley, so their little fights stayed purely verbal.

Her grandfather went on to introduce her to everyone, but the MacManus brothers kept a steady stare at the back of her head even as she chatted away with her grandfather, ignoring his outbursts of swearing with the grace of someone who had spent too many years listening to their relatives spew venom.

And of course, everyone was aware that she was ignoring them, including the brothers themselves. So no one was surprised when the hot tempered Connor made his way over there, a vaguely amused and mildly concerned Murphy following close behind. And looking straight at her grandfather, Siobhan smiled as she felt a hand twine itself into her dark hair.

It was the start of the games from her childhood all over again, but she could already feel the difference.

And her grandfather smiled back, even as he shuddered, because that was Lily's smile all over, and he had seen what his daughter could do to people to upset her. He had no doubt that his granddaughter could do a hell of a lot worse.

"You're ignoring us," Connor pouted playfully from behind her as he pressed himself up against her back.

"Am I?" Siobhan asked, tilting her head back to look up at him with glittering emerald eyes. "It would be rude to ignore everyone else in here in favor of you two," she scolded lightly.

And her grandfather's smile turned into a grin. Even when they were all younger, they had played this game of one-upmanship and mockery. The only difference now was that Siobhan was older and wiser, and she could hold her own now when she couldn't before.

"But I suppose you're right," she continued with a dramatic sigh, turning around slowly to give Connor a chance to unwind his hand from her hair. But he didn't, simply shifting his arm, and she cursed herself in her mind.

'You are not going to sleep with those boys Siobhan,' she scolded herself firmly, even as she felt her body reacting as her eyes darkened at the challenge implicit in Connor's actions.

"Of course we are," Murphy murmured, and something in her eyes flickered when he joined in on the game.

"Of course," she agreed quietly, tilting her head in a way to meant to strain Connor's wrist and force him to break the hold. He did it, just as she had planned, but then Murphy's hand took his place in her hair, and she smiled slightly, even as she panicked inside.

It was incredibly rare for Murphy to participate in their little games, but when he did, he could _play. _But right now, she wasn't so sure that she wanted him to. Still, she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. So Connor smirked at her smugly, making her quirk an eyebrow at him.

Then she flicked her eyes to Murphy and grinned, deciding to make the best of his participation. "Finally decided to play, huh? Took you long enough," she teased, making him smile slowly.

"Sweetheart, we both know that when I play, I play to win. It wouldn't be fair to ruin your fun too early, now would it?" He asked, casually tightening his grip on her hair.

And then her grandfather broke in. "A-As pleased as I am t' see that my granddaughter will eventually have a good Catholic man, and Irish to boot," he began, stuttering slightly and breaking out into a quick round of swearing, "There will be none o' that going on around me."

And Siobhan flushed. "Sorry grandda," she apologized quietly. She had forgotten that they weren't alone. She had loved those boys as much as her little eight year old heart could, and now all three of them were older, but still the same in the most basic and important ways, and she _wanted them._

"Sorry Doc," the boys chorused, and Murphy let his hand out of her hair, running his fingers through it gently.

They both looked rather fascinated by it, and she could understand that. When she was younger she'd had a very boyish cut, courtesy of her Aunt Petunia, and now it was long and thick, styled carefully. But they seemed to like it, and that was more important to Siobhan than she liked.

She would have to be careful around them. For all that they had quickly fallen into old patterns, mostly because they still hated people ignoring them and she had used that to her advantage, she wouldn't risk being hurt by them.

And they weren't what she was here for. It had been far too long since she'd had somebody pay attention to her like that, and it made her body ache in the way that said she was going to be spending some time under the cold spray of a shower.

But she wanted them. And they were Irish-Catholic and intense as all get out and everything that she had ever wanted in a man. Except for the fact that they were twins, and not one man. Which meant that she was screwed. And unfortunately, she didn't mean that literally.

"We need t' be up early for work tomorrow," Murphy commented, glancing over at Connor, who nodded reluctantly.

They both got up and headed towards the door, but Connor paused and glanced back at her with a wicked look. "We'll be seeing you around girl," he said, allowing his dark gaze to tell her exactly what they wanted to be seeing then. And she wasn't exactly opposed to it, because she had cared about those boys when she was younger, and still did.

Once she had been old enough, she had carefully searched them out and had kept an eye on them. Just to make sure that the Death Eaters hadn't found out about her American connections of course, but she had cheered to high heavens when she had heard what they were doing.

Of course, she had been less pleased about who their father was, but if Il Duce could help them on their divine mission, then so be it.

Once her grandfather had chased the rest of the customers out, he sat down beside her with a chuckle. "B-Both o' 'em lass?" He asked, his Irish brogue coming out thicker than ever in his amusement. "Well, I have no complaint. They're fine boys, they are."

Suddenly he laughed again. "But I will say tha' I never saw them react so strong to a woman before. Ye had a hold on those boys before ye left, and ye do again now."

He read the caution on her face correctly and smiled a little bit. "Their ma raised those boys right girl, they won't treat ye badly unless ye do them a bad turn first. An' I don't believe that ye will."

Siobhan smiled, a bit of her fear gone. "I'll try grandda," she said gently. "But we'll see how things work out." And she could not believe how her stomach jumped when she realized that her grandfather was giving her permission. It might not be what she was here for, but it might be exactly what she needed.

"Aye," the older man agreed. "That we will. We'll also be talking about Petunia, an' Voldemort."

She felt all of the color drain from her face. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried to reconcile the fact that her grandfather knew about Voldemort, knew about _magic, _and he was still sitting here with her smiling.

"You know?" She asked lowly, and Doc chuckled.

"S-Siobhan, most o' us here in Southie know it. Those boys especially. They followed you in the papers for years, an' decided that once you came back, you would be theirs."

Siobhan was stunned. They had followed her just as she had followed them. Well, at least she felt less creepy now, she mused, almost numbed by her shock.

He smirked a little bit at her gaping expression, and even his shouted curses sounded amused. "An' they knew ye'd be back. They're smart boys, so ye'd do best to tell them th' truth an' sit back."

She nodded slowly, before choking on air. "Both of them?!" Holy shit. It had just hit her that her _grandfather _was giving her permission to date _two men_. _At the same time._ Twins or not, she couldn't believe that her grandfather was giving her permission.

Her grandfather laughed. "Aye lass, th' both o' 'em. Ye'll find tha' those boys share _everything_."

Siobhan was stunned. She wouldn't be the center of some messed of display of dominance towards the other brother. If she chose to be in a relationship with them, it would be with the both of them, not choosing between them. Until now, it hadn't hit her like that. Well. That certainly changed things a bit, now didn't it?

"Before we get into all o' that, tell me what it is that Petunia's done now." Her grandfather looked resigned, and Siobhan hesitated.

"Aunt Petunia hasn't been so bad, really," she murmured, tapping a finger on her jean clad thigh nervously. "She's the one who finally told me that you wanted to see me, after all."

"Aye," her grandfather agreed, shouting out some angry curses, "But she should have told ye long before now that I wanted t' see ye."

She sighed. "Yeah, she should have," she agreed tiredly. "But Aunt Petunia and I didn't get along very well, and these last couple of years I wouldn't have dared, not with Voldemort running around. I wouldn't have risked you like that."

Doc grunted, obviously not satisfied with that answer before demanding, "A-And her pig o' a husband?"

"I would really rather not talk about it in too much detail," she admitted reluctantly, knowing that she had just inexplicitly told him that Vernon's treatment had been bad. "But suffice to say that I will never speak to him again. Ever."

Her grandfather obviously wanted to ask more, but he swallowed his questions, although not his curses, and pulled her in for a tight hug. "I'm glad yer here Siobhan," he whispered into her ear, making her smile beautifully.

"I'm glad I'm here too grandda," she murmured back, basking in the warm embrace of someone who loved her unconditionally.

"Give th' boys a chance, lass, and they might just surprise ye." With those last words of wisdom he pulled her up onto her feet and grinned, looking giddy. "C'mon lass, let's go see yer room."

She fought back a gasp as she followed him up the stairs. Her room? He opened a door, and Siobhan Potter fought back tears. "It's perfect," she whispered, looking into what most would consider a typical bedroom.

But considering, not only the fact that she had spent her formative years in a cupboard, but that she had spent so much time in the Dark Lord's dungeons, the slightly small room looked heavenly.

It was the same room that he'd given her when she'd stayed there the last time, but he'd obviously added some more personal touches, giving it a homey feel that she'd never had before. "Thank you."

Her grandfather smiled at her warmly. "Y-Ye're welcome. Now get some sleep. We'll be talking about Voldemort in th' morning."

For the first time in a long time, Siobhan didn't argue or glare and huff. She just nodded, and when the door shut behind her, she cried for what her life might have been like if Dumbledore had placed her with her grandfather instead of Petunia.

When she dreamed that night, she dreamed of a world where her family had stood behind her as she'd been forced to kill a man turned monster, and she smiled. Because even if that would never come to pass, now she had someone in her corner for good. And that meant everything in the world to her.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: You know, for the longest time I debated with myself whether or not I should put the conversation with the MacManus boys in this chapter. But then I decided that they deserved their own chapter, one that wasn't completely filled with back story and angst. Besides, this chapter was getting pretty long, and I hate it when one chapter is five times longer than every other chapter in a story. **_

_**IMPORTANT: Check out my profile for updates on how I'm doing on my stories and life in general if you actually care. I'm trying to cut down on my author notes in my stories, so hopefully that will help. Unless, of course, nobody actually reads these. Then I suppose it doesn't really matter. Anyway, on with the story!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Boondock Saints. **_

For the first time since she was eight years old, Siobhan Potter woke up with a smile on her lips. Looking around the room, she couldn't help the happy laugh that tried to bubble out of her throat, although she kept it firmly inside, simply allowing her smile to grow wider.

She stretched out for a moment before slipping out of the bed and hurrying into the bathroom. Nature called, and she needed a shower badly.

After her shower, which had ended in cold water as she remembered the dark promise in Connor's eyes the previous night, she returned her trunk to its right size and pulled several articles of clothing out of its magically expanded compartments.

If Connor and Murphy MacManus were serious about what they had been implying, she would need a serious confidence booster of an outfit to get through the conversations that they needed to have without dying from embarrassment or shame.

After all, she was pretty sure that they were going to want to know what had happened, and she would tell them. It wouldn't be fair to them not to, especially if they were going to be…intimate. She forcefully suppressed a blush at the thought, but she couldn't fully suppress the delighted shiver that made its way down her back.

And that wasn't even mentioning the conversation she still needed to have with her grandfather about Voldemort and all of the nastiness that would come of that. It was a conversation that she wasn't looking forward to in the least, but he deserved to know. And if they were talking about Voldemort, they wouldn't be talking about the Dursley's.

Despite the fact that her treatment at Voldemort's hands had been far worse than her relatives could have conceived of at their most sadistic, Siobhan couldn't help but think that her grandfather would take far kinder to Voldemort's actions than her Aunt's. At least the Dark Lord wasn't family.

So she pulled on a tight black long sleeved t-shirt. Well, it had been tight once upon a time, now it hung rather loosely on her still half-starved frame. She should probably eat soon, although she wasn't truly hungry. Then again, she was never truly hungry anymore.

Then she pulled on snug black jeans and her favorite knee high boots, this time with the heel, impractical or not. She would not break her damn neck trying to look everybody in the eye. Besides, her heels were the one weapon that she could always keep on her that nobody ever thought about.

A quick run of a brush through her hair and she smiled, ready to face the day. The clicking of her heels let the men already in the bar know that she was coming long before they saw her, and when they saw her they whistled obnoxiously, making her laugh loudly, the carefree sound echoing for a moment before she stopped herself, her eyes widening.

She hadn't laughed like that in a long, long time. A softer smile curved her lips as she moved towards her grandfather. Now Siobhan knew for a fact that coming here was the right decision. She would be happy.

"Girl, ye're gonna make them boys have a damn heart attack once they see ye," her grandfather told her, shaking his head before adding, almost matter of factly, "Fuck! Shit!"

Her laugh was softer this time, but no less genuine. "They'll have to learn to deal with it. These are my favorite boots." Besides, this was her confidence outfit. Siobhan looked absolutely killer in it, and she knew it. She hopped up on a stool and added curiously, "I thought you wanted to talk to me this morning? I didn't know pubs opened this early in the Americas."

She watched her grandfather's shifty face for a moment before laughing at him. "'s okay grandda, I won't tell anybody." She winked playfully, making him laugh before shooing his regulars out of the pub.

"I need t' talk t' me granddaughter, now get outta here!" He cursed and scolded them all through the door and locked it behind them, leaving them alone together.

Siobhan sighed, twisting to hop up on the bar and cross her legs, propping her feet up on the same stool she'd been sitting on. "Well grandda, what do you want to know?"

While he formulated his questions, she mused at how difficult it was becoming to keep the Irish lilt that she loved out of her voice. Oh, she knew that she had a tinge of it, she always would, but nothing like what wanted to come out.

It was something that she loved and hated at the same time. It was a reminder of everything she could have had, if only Dumbledore had bothered to look past his own nose and see that Petunia Dursley wasn't the right choice for the guardian of the Girl Who Lived.

If only he had bothered to look for her grandfather.

If only that foolish old man had bothered to do a lot of things. If he had, she was pretty sure that she wouldn't be sitting here like this, dangerously underweight and scarred beyond recognition.

"Why ye, Siobhan? Why did ye have t' fight tha' monster and no' someone else? Why did a seventeen year old girl have t' fight one o' the worst monsters th' world has ever seen?" Her grandfather's voice was surprisingly steady, and Siobhan looked away, chewing on her lip nervously.

How could she tell him when she didn't even truly know herself? It was ridiculous, what she had been told, it was absolutely silly, and she had no choice but to tell him what Albus Dumbledore had told her right after she had gotten her Godfather killed, because no matter how silly or ridiculous it seemed, it was the truth.

Or as close to the truth as Albus Dumbledore had been willing to let her get.

"There was a prophecy. It was th' reason mum and da were killed, an' it was th' reason tha' he kept coming after me instead o' someone else." She looked up then, and pierced her grandfather with a look so intense that he felt a slight tinge of fear trickle down his spine.

"I love you grandda, but I spent time in his dungeons. It's a time that I don't want to talk about, not in any sort of detail. I hope you're okay with that." She took great pains to make sure that her voice was as clear as possible, because detailing what she had gone through was something that she would probably never do. It was non-negotiable.

"Can ye tell me what ye feel ye can then? I want t' understand." Her grandfather requested gently, making her grimace slightly but nod none the less. He was concerned about her, and it was a nice feeling.

"During my fourth year at Hogwarts, I was involved in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

Her grandfather nodded. "Y-yeah, we read all about tha' lil clusterfuck."

Her lips quirked. "Clusterfuck is a fantastic way of describing it. So after that, Voldemort came right out into the open. It was all out warfare, and the first thing that he targeted was the Daily Prophet."

Her grandfather nodded again. "Tha's why we started gettin' th' Quibbler, I think it was called."

"Righ'. So, like I said, it was all out warfare. My fifth year was horrible, especially because of a Ministry toady." Her green eyes hardened. Dolores' Umbridge's death had been her first kill of the war, and the most satisfying. "Let's just say tha' she was practicing torture on students."

It was really the bare minimum of what that bitch had done, but if she went into it, she had no doubt that she would lose her already slightly tenuous control of her volatile magic. She would rather _not_ destroy her grandfather's pub, thank you.

She sighed. "And then my sixth year. By that point so many families had been touched by Voldemort, so many people killed, that everyone was blaming me for it all. The fact that I was sixteen and still in school meant nothing. I was their Chosen One, and I was supposed to end it before it began. Eventually, it became safer for me on the battlefield than in the school, so I officially dropped out to become a soldier."

Siobhan snuck a look at her grandfather, surprised to see him smiling at her. "Siobhan, ye make me so proud t' be yer grandda. Ye made a choice t' keep yerself safe, even a' th' cost o' yer education, an' ye'll never see me fault ye fer tha'. But if ye ever want t' go back t' school, I'll support tha' too."

She slid off of the bar and hugged him tightly. She had been so terrified of him being disappointed in her, and instead he was _proud _of her. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with tears that glistened in her eyes.

After taking a few moments to compose herself under her grandfather's understanding eyes, she continued bitterly. "I was a natural. I thrived in combat, and everyone knew that if you wanted complete _fucking_ annihilation, you came to Siobhan Potter. Needless to say, I moved up the ranks quickly. I was _officially_ a Colonel, but I was called the Commander because even the General moved when I gave orders."

She couldn't help the nostalgic smile that took over her face. "It's not something I'm proud of, but at the same time I was doing something to fight against the people who wanted to kill off everything that was good and _truly_ magical about the world that I lived in. And that's something that I can't help but be proud of."

Siobhan sighed and went on before her grandfather could get a word in. "At any rate, eventually the men and women serving with me started to resent me. I was too good, why wasn't I doing more, why was I moving up in the ranks so quickly? That sort of thing. So, when one day a messenger came, saying that Voldemort would stop his reign of terror if they just sent me to him, they agreed."

She jumped a little bit when her grandfather let out a couple of vehement curses, and she wasn't sure if they were because of his disease or not.

She quickly continued with her story. "Of course, I didn't take to that too kindly, and I took out a fair few of them while they were trying to subdue me." At the time it had hurt, having to fight against people she had gotten so close to, but now she just felt a vicious satisfaction, and it was obvious that her grandfather felt the same, judging by his proud smirk.

"They got me down and out eventually of course, but they made one huge mistake." She sighed, shaking her head gently.

"An' wha' was tha' lass?" Her grandfather asked carefully, almost asking if it was alright for him to ask questions. But of course it was, so she nodded at his question, thinking on it for only a brief moment before answering.

"They trusted Lord Voldemort to keep his word." She smiled grimly. "The second that they got me into his dungeon, the Death Eaters resumed their attacks, and this time the people were too demoralized to help. The more skilled fighters went AWOL, afraid that they would be next on Voldemort's demand list."

She suddenly smiled smugly, satisfaction in her tone as she said, "And then Voldemort made his own mistake. He tried to break me instead of just killing me outright."

Her eyes gleamed fiercely. "But I wouldn't break," she reported with the same ferocity that lit her eyes. "And it made him furious enough to make the biggest, and last, mistake of his life. He wanted to duel me."

"An' ye won?" Her grandfather queried in the tone of someone who already knows the answer.

"But of course. Mind you, it wasn't a nice and polite, proper duel. We both used all of the underhanded, sneaky attacks in the book, but in the end I was just a little more cunning than he was. After that, it was a free for all, but I won that too. And then I left the Wizarding world."

Siobhan shrugged lightly, the solemnity in her eyes belaying the indifference of the action. "I just couldn't handle their hypocrisy any more."

"An' ye ended up here." Her grandfather finished with a smile and almost pleasant sounding curses.

"Yup," she agreed. "An' here's where I plan on staying as long as ye don' have a problem wit' it."

"N-no problem a' all lass." He assured her, pulling her in for a tight hug.

"Eh," she hesitated briefly. "Ye may wanna listen t' this first. I 'ave certain responsibilities even though I don' want anythin' t' do wit' 'em anymore, an' tha' means tha' some of 'em are gonna end up showing up 'ere."

She coughed, shaking her head and firmly shoving her accent into the drawer in her mind she kept it in again, for what seemed to be the thousandth time since she'd woken up.

"Anyway, I'll make sure that the bar, patrons and most importantly _you_ will be safe, but I'll understand if you're not comfortable with snooty arse wizards walking around your pub." She twisted her fingers together nervously, making him snort.

"Lass, ye're me granddaughter an' if wizards walkin' around me pub is wha' it takes t' keep ye 'ere, then alright. Tha's fine." He looked at her sternly while barking out a couple of swear words.

Siobhan smiled softly. "I'm glad to hear it grandda."

"An' while ye're a' it," he began, looking rather hopeful, "ye can feel free t' let out yer accent. Ye stand out like a sore thumb wit' tha' British one."

She laughed in surprise, staring at him for a long moment before nodding. "Sure grandda, I'll try. I'm pretty used t' keeping it hidden though. It wasn't something tha' British wizards appreciated."

She glanced at the clock absentmindedly and promptly choked on air. It was almost four thirty in the afternoon. They had literally spent all day talking. And now that she thought about it, she could definitely feel her stomach complaining.

"Food?" She looked at her grandfather hopefully, making him laugh loudly.

"Aye lass, ye'll get yer food."

Siobhan smiled happily. She didn't like missing meals, not when her weight was already at an almost dangerous level. Still, she was hoping that a stress free environment would help her in that aspect too. She already felt happier than she could ever truly remember.

She hesitated for a long moment, and then decided to put her trust in the man who had never let her down. "Grandda?"

"A-Aye sweetheart?" He asked curiously.

"My weight is a serious concern. I'm almost into dangerous levels, and between the Dursley's and Voldemort my body just doesn't really let me know when I need to eat. So, if it's not too much trouble, can you try and make sure that I eat enough? After I talk with them, I'll be asking Connor and Murphy as well."

Well, she would if the conversation went the way that she thought it would.

A dark look entered his eyes at her mention of the Dursley's, but he nodded none the less. "O' course Siobhan. I'll make sure t' make ye something wit' a lot o' calories too."

"Thank you," she whispered with a relieved smile. It felt surprisingly good to know that someone that she trusted was going to be looking out for her health now. She had never appreciated it before, but it had never been her grandda before either.

Now her only problem was talking to the MacManus boys. And if the ruckus outside was any indication, she didn't have very long to wait at all.


End file.
